Sunday, February 20, 2005

Vampire's Kiss III

Softly gliding through the darkness in the room, Kayrim passes by, oblivious to the danger near her. In sudden motion, 3 flitting shadows pass by her, only equaled by Kayrim's fluidity in evading the sharp cuts their daggers produced. She smirks, softly, and observes them. Much blood pumping through... Hmm, "This could be fun", she says aloud.

The first shadow, now the silhouette of a man, dashes for her, with a second running close behind him. She braces for their attack, an attack that never comes. They jump out from in front of her, to opposing sides, stand on the walls to her sides by the force of their jump, then leap back in towards her from the walls, mettalic talons at the ready. She tenses, and, in a single fluid movement, steps in under the left assailant, grabbing him by the wrist. Practiced motion acting on it's own, she snaps his wrist with her fingers, the enormous strength of undeath helping her on this task. In the same movement, she pulls back, slamming him against the second assailant, who was dumbstruck at slicing through thin air. How could she move so fast?

Both thugs a pile on the floor, she takes the dagger from the broken wrist, and looks coolly at the third opponent, who has been only watching so far. He smiles, and suddenly vanishes. Before Kayrim's heart could beat once more, if it could at all, he's behind her, slicing at her back, and just barely drawing a thin line of blood on her back. She leaps foward, minimizing this potentially worse wound, yet, wondering if she's bitten off more than she can chew. She should call on Ashtear, yet, she wanted to prove to him she could do this on her own. A quick flick of her arms and a handstand later, and she's on her feet, looking at him again.

The tear in her dress being too much for it, the dress rips, dropping to the floor. She stands there, fully naked, her breasts heaving in the sudden motion, yet, she braces herself for another movement. He moves to strike again, yet, this time, she is ready. He comes at her with a straight thrust, deceptively simple, yet she can see where his foot will land, hinting at the side spin the thrust will take as soon as it hits it's full extension. And just before the foot lands, she flicks the stolen dagger at the tendons on that foot, severing them, and, thus, bringing him to the floor.

But before he can realize about his foot, his thrust is still coming in sharp. Not defending for this, he impales into her chest, straight through to the hilt.

They stand there. Her on her feet, naked, with a foot of steel in her chest, and him, putting all his weight in the blade, for otherwise he'd fall. The blood splatters on her face, breasts, stomach, and his front as well. She just stands there, motionless, eyes caught in the impact of the sharp blade on her chest. He looks at her, noticing the blade within her, and smiles. SHe's done with.

But something's wrong. The blood on his face starts to move, her blood. The blood in her body begins to flow back to the wound.. no, to the center of her chest, just above the wound. The blood coalesces there, and begins to flow outward, covering her body. He looks, scared, stunned, tries to flee, but the dagger is stuck, held fast by her body, his hands held tight by the splash of her blood on them.

Of all the blood on her body, a small thin line starts to snake from her chest, to the blade, like a line of ants marching, to his arm, and up his body to his face. He's very afraid now, revulsed at what's happening now, yet there's nothing he can do. He's done for, and he knows it.

The blood snakes to his mouth, and enters. He begins to choke, to sputter. The blood now covers her fully, resembling a skin-tight suit of dark red. The dagger begins to dissolve in her chest, sizzling like butter on a pan, melting off of her, showing a perfect bosom underneath. Flawless. Like her kill.

Suddenly, a lot more blood than came in comes out. From his eyes, ears, nose, mouth. A sudden torrent of blood spews forth, floating in the air above its owner. She leans foward, planting a kiss on his lips, the last thing he ever feels.

The presumptuous killer, now a dissecated husk, slumps to the floor, where it snaps, too dry to maintain it's flexibility. The blood floats above him, in a huge droplet, suspended in the air as if gravity did not, could not, affect it. She extends her arms, touching the orb of the darkest wine, and proclaims above her fallen enemies.

"Master! May this sacrifice of blood offered by our enemies stand as proof that you are superior, and that any of our enemies will so crumble as dusk beneath our feet! Come to us, master, and bring forth this new age of darkness this world so very needs for it to be reborn!"

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